


New Year's Kiss

by rosebudbois



Category: Carry On - Rainbow Rowell
Genre: 8th year, Canon Divergence, First Kiss, M/M, at watford, new year's
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-31
Updated: 2017-12-31
Packaged: 2019-02-25 19:07:12
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,655
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13219275
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rosebudbois/pseuds/rosebudbois
Summary: Simon and Baz are both at Watford for new year’s and Simon just can’t allow Baz to go another year without having a new year’s kiss





	New Year's Kiss

**Baz**

For the first time, I'm not with my family for the new year. I was with them for Christmas morning, but after my father and I got in an argument, I thought it best to just pack my bags and return to Watford earlier than usual.

Being home for the holidays would usually be fine, if not for the fact that Snow is here too.

When I was in the rush of packing my bags and getting away from my father as quickly as possible, it had completely slipped my mind that Agatha didn't invite Snow to her house for Christmas this year. So now I'm stuck with him until Penny gets back and he’ll have an excuse to leave the room. (He leaves to talk to Ebb sometimes, but even she's too sad for him to be around for too long.)

It's new year's eve and I've been in the Catacombs for a few hours, avoiding Snow of course. I plan to stay down here until I am certain that he is asleep. But being December, the snow storm brewing outside may force me to go back to our room early. It’s not my fault I’m already so cold to begin with.

I drain the last rat I caught and start winding my way through the maze of corridors in the Catacombs. When I reach the doors of the White Chapel, I put the hood up on my coat and brace for the storm. The temperature isn't as bad as the thousands of little snowflakes pelting me in the face at an alarming speed.

I speed walk all the way back to Mummers House, brushing the snow out of my hair and coat once I'm inside the doors.

As I walk up to mine and Snow's room, I desperately hope that he is asleep. It's hard enough having to be around him during school, but seeing him over break is somehow even worse.

Being around him for the holidays manages to make my feelings even stronger. Maybe it's just because it's the only time when he isn't worked up over the Mage's requests, or the Humdrum. It could also be the fact that I'm head over heels for him and every minute that I am with him only drives me to fall deeper in love with him.

I prepare myself to open the door, staying as quiet as humanly (or inhumanly) possible in case he is asleep. But unfortunately, nothing ever seems to go my way. The lamp between our beds is on and he's sitting on his own, his face buried in what looks like one of his notebooks. I can see his shit handwriting from the doorway.

He looks up and watches as I take off my coat and hang it in my wardrobe.

"I didn't know you could read." I say, sitting on my bed. Because, of course, I can never pass up a chance to insult him. And no matter how much I do love him, my mouth doesn't like to pay attention to what my heart wants.

"That wasn't even a good one. You're getting lousy at insulting me, Baz." He rolls his eyes and pretends to not be upset, but the way the room gets a little warmer tells me that it bothers him.

I go into the bathroom, slamming the door behind me because I know he hates it, and change into my pyjamas. He's still in the same position when I lay down on my own bed, but he puts his notebook down when he does.

"Why did you come back?" He asks, folding his arms across his chest.

"Why is it any of your business?" I retort.

"Because you're my evil roommate. And when you do things that you've never done before, it makes me wonder what you're plotting." He's really reaching with his accusations. I'm not the only one who's getting lousy.

"If I was plotting anything, what makes you think I would tell you?" I don't wait for him to answer before I continue, "And if you're so eager to know, my father and I had a disagreement and I decided to come back from break early."

He thinks for a minute before getting up from his bed and grabbing something from our mini fridge. (We’re the only ones with a mini fridge, perks of having the Mage’s Heir I guess.) He sits back down, facing me this time, and says, "Well, since you're here now, it looks like we'll be celebrating the new year together!"

"Snow, is that alcohol?" I scoff. "Also, what makes you think I would willingly celebrate any holiday with you?" That's a lie, I would gladly celebrate any holiday with Snow. Hell, I'd even make up a holiday just so I could celebrate it with him.

"It's not like you could leave anyway. While you were gone, the Mage installed a new thing where past 10 o'clock, all the doors automatically lock." He grins at me, "Like some kind of weird curfew. You can still leave our room, but no more going down to the Catacombs past 10 for you."

"Are you serious?" Honestly, does the Mage think he can have that sort of control over students?

"Yeah. Fuck him, right?" Snow twists open the cap to the alcohol and takes a sip, wincing as it slides down his throat. (Is that vodka? What the hell Snow.)

"Did you just say 'fuck him' about the Mage?" I think I may need to get my ears checked. "Because correct me if I'm wrong, but I thought you were the Mage's Heir. Don't you get off on obeying his every command?"

He snorts at that, "That's gross, Baz. And sure, I'm technically the 'Mage's Heir', but I'm my own person. I don't have to agree with everything he chooses to do." He moves to take another sip from the bottle but I take it from him before he can. 

“As much as I dislike you, I will not allow you to drink vodka straight from the bottle.” I place it on the table between our beds, “That’s gross and you know it.”

“What do you suggest I do then?” He asks.

“Have you ever even heard of mixing vodka with other things so that it is actually bearable?” He looks confused and I just sigh and shake my head, “How could I forgot that you’re the Chosen One. I doubt you’ve had much experience with alcohol.”

He stays sitting on the bed while I grab some soda water from the fridge.

“No.” He says before I’ve done anything, “I will not drink that. I’d rather chug this entire bottle of vodka than put my mouth anywhere near that sad excuse for a drink.”

“I hate to break it to you but that would probably kill you.” I sit back down on my bed and pick up a cup from next to my bed, tilting it to dump out all the water onto the floor.

“Baz what the hell?” Simon asks, gesturing towards the wet patch of carpet.

“Yeah I probably could have just magicked that out of the glass or something, but it’ll dry.” I turn my attention back to the soda water, emptying half of the can into the glass and filling both the can and the glass the rest of the way with vodka.

“Here.” I hand Simon the can and he takes it. He brings it up to his nose and sniffs it, making a face of disgust and shoving it back at me. “Crowley Snow, you’re so dramatic. It doesn’t even smell any different! Just drink it.”

He keeps the look on his face but drinks anyway. “It’s not as bad as I thought it would be, but I still hate you and your fancy soda water.”

I roll my eyes in disbelief and drink my own, not nearly as fast as Simon, but fast enough to be getting more soda water for the both of us shortly after. Simon may be bigger than me (not in height, he’s just very broad) but it becomes clear very quickly that he is somewhat of a lightweight.

When he gets up to get more alcohol, I stop him and convince him to instead drink some water. I may pretend to like him, but I’m not going to let him drink himself half to death. (Not that the amount of alcohol he has had would do that, he just worries me so the sooner he stops the better.)

We continue to talk about things. Not things like the Mage or the Humdrum or the war; things like Simon’s favorite shirt of his and my favorite ice cream flavor. (He likes the shirt he’s wearing now - a white t-shirt with a drawing of a goat on it that he just made. My favorite flavor is mint chocolate chip.)

We don’t talk for that long, and when we stop, he’s still not completely sober. He’s getting there though. He just sits across from me, tapping his fingers on his knee with no rhythm whatsoever. His gaze drifts to the clock and his eyes light up, "It's 11:53!" He exclaims, "Almost the new year!"

“Good observation, Snow.” I say.

"So, speaking of new year’s, have you ever had a new year’s kiss." I may not be completely sober either, but I still don’t like the way this is heading. Especially because I’m not sober, actually. They say drunk words are sober thoughts, but Snow cannot hear any of my thoughts.

"No." I answer anyway.

"Seriously?" His eyes fly open and he honestly looks offended. "No one has ever kissed you on New Year's? That's sad."

"It's not sad, Snow. There's nothing wrong with not having kissed anyone yet at my age." I still feel slightly uncomfortable with this conversation, and I know I wouldn’t be having it - or any conversation for that matter - with Snow if alcohol weren’t involved.

"Wait a second." He leans forward and looks like he's ready to have a serious conversation, "You've never kissed anyone? How is that possible?"

"It's not that hard to believe. It's simple, really." I shrug.

"How is it simple?" He asks.

"You see, I don't like anyone, nobody likes me, and none of us kiss." I say like it’s not a big deal, but it obviously is to Snow. (Why does he care so much?)

"That is not simple. It might make sense if you were anyone else in the entire world, but Baz Pitch? Never having kissed anyone?" He throws his hands up in the air and sighs, "How can you look like that and have no one wanting to kiss you?"

"I never said that no one wanted to kiss me, just that in my house, my Baz house, there are no reciprocated feelings so I save my kisses. Save them for a person who wants them." I ignore the last thing he said, hoping that if I do, maybe it'll go away. It doesn't.

"I just don't think it's fair. It's almost new year's and if you don't get a new year's kiss now, you'll have to wait an entire year to have another chance at it. The least we can do in this situation is just kiss so that you can say you've kissed someone at new year's." He says.

You'd think with the way he's acting about this like he's serving the community, helping the greater good in some way. And I should probably be protesting his proposition for the sake of my feelings, but my brain thinks that is the best idea. Probably a combination of the alcohol and the fact that kissing Simon Snow is going to be involved.

"That may be the best idea you've ever had." His eyes light up at that and he gets up to sit next to me on my bed. "What time is it?" I ask.

"The clock is right there," He points to the clock that is approximately half a foot in front of my face, "But it's 11:58."

We just sit there, staring at the clock, neither of us making a sound. It's one of those digital clocks that has the seconds in the corner, perfect for this occasion. When it gets to 11:59:45, he turns to face me and I do the same. Now that my back is to the clock, I let him count down.

"10... 9... 8..." He scoots a little closer. "7... 6... 5... 4..." He reaches his hand up to my cheek, the other resting on my knee. "3... 2..." We both start to lean in.

"1." He whispers against my lips.

Kissing Simon Snow may possibly be the best thing I've ever done. Although I also feel like I might explode. He’s even warmer than I thought he would be, which seems impossible considering how much he heats up rooms when he enters them. There’s a chance I am currently on fire.

He's stealing all my air, kissing me like nothing else matters. I tell myself that it must be the alcohol, even though I know the effects of it are mostly worn off by now. My hands are gripping at the front of his shirt and his are running through my hair, resting on the back of my neck and pulling me closer to him.

He’s leading with his chin. Tilting it in all the right ways that make me melt farther into him, pushing me closer down to the bed until I’m laying down and he’s hovering over me. It almost feels like fighting, not because we are fighting, but because everything feels like that with him.

I'm not sure how much time has passed, but when he pulls away, panting and trying to catch his breath, all I want is to lean back in for more. I don't. Because I have to remind myself that this means nothing. Like he said, he only kissed me because he felt bad that I haven’t kissed anyone before.

His shirt is still clutched tightly in my hands and his are wrapped loosely around my neck. He pulls me up so we’re sitting again and rests his forehead against mine and smiles.

“For that being your first kiss, you’re not too bad at it.” I can’t help but smile at this, leaning back in to press my lips against his in a less desperate kiss.

He pulls back and looks at me again, bringing a hand from the back of my neck to run a thumb over my lips.

“Your lips are so pink.” He pulls my bottom lip down with his finger, watching it as he lets go.

“That would be because you bit them, Snow. Thank you very much.” I say, letting my hands fall from his shirt and onto his thighs.

“Yeah I know that.” He rolls his eyes and continues, “I just mean that they’re never any shade of pink, always grey.”

“Looks like you bit them back to life. Congrats.” I wrap my arms around his waist and lay back down on the bed, pulling him with me. He rolls over so he’s laying on his side next to me, facing me and placing his hand on my cheek.

I reach over to turn off the light and he runs his thumb over my cheekbone. I can still see him in the darkness of the room with the help of the moonlight streaming through the open window and my eyesight.

“Goodnight, Baz.” He mumbles, already sounding asleep. He drapes his leg over mine and I reach down to pull up the covers. I wrap my arm around his waist and pull him closer to me, tucking my face in the crook of my neck.

“Goodnight, Simon.” I say even though I think he’s sleeping.

I can’t wait until my next new year’s kiss.


End file.
